


A Point for You, a Point for Us

by LessonsFromMoths



Series: Sterek All The Time (lots of one shots) [29]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Awesome Laura Hale, BAMF Cora, BAMF Stiles, Cora is like Penelope from Criminal Minds, Fire, Fluff, Healing, Hero Hales, Heroes, M/M, Magic Stiles Stilinski, Not really angsty, Past Character Death, Powerful Stiles Stilinksi, Red - Freeform, Red Witch, Superheroes, Temporary Amnesia, Villain Stiles Stilinski, Villains, Villains to Heroes, everyone is pretty much dead, i had too much fun making everyone dead, sorry - Freeform, stiles has a sad backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 18:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: Stiles is an amnesiac villain, and Derek and Co. are the heroes that find him.





	A Point for You, a Point for Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is based off of the tumblr prompt:  
Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the heroes finding them and taking them with them and taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesnt want to say anything bc the heroes are being so nice to them and no one has been that nice to them in so long and they don’t want it to end and theyre maybe getting fond of the heroes but dont tell anyone shh. But eventually something happens and the heroes are in trouble and they’re trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they’re an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themself and they’ve grown to like them and don’t want them to get hurt but the villain just pushes past them toward whatever is trying to hurt the heroes and just fuckin goes guns blazing and destroys them.
> 
> So anyways, not beta'd. 
> 
> Also I don't really go into depth about why Stiles is a villain, mostly bc it's not the point of this fic, but I wanted to let ya'll know where he's coming from. So here's the rundown:  
Stiles is the recklessly righteous vigilante. He kills and maims, and is known as a hero to those he’s saved. To everyone else, though, he’s the most dangerous villain they’ve ever seen. He kills those who do bad in the city, and he has an intense sense of justice. Cop-killers, people who get away with rape or robbery or kidnapping or anything of the sorts isn't safe.

Derek can’t even see Erica and Boyd anymore, there’s so much smoke. He blindly runs ahead, fighting to listen for signs of life in the quickly collapsing building. His lungs can’t heal fast enough for him to scream out, he’s barely able to keep breathing from all the smoke. A piece of smoldering timber falls behind him, and he pushes forward, determined to grab the last of the civilians that might have been caught in the flames.

“Look!” Erica’s suddenly by his side again, and she points to a collapsed wall. There are filing cabinets stacked upon each other, and underneath them is a man, soot covering his face. He looks dead.

Derek and Erica run to his side, and he begins lifting the filing cabinets as she drapes a wet cloth other the man’s mouth. She grabs him under the armpits and hauls him out from underneath the cabinets. 

Boyd comes barreling down from the staircase. “We’re clear, we gotta go!” Derek takes the man from Erica and hauls him over his shoulder, and they start running down the stairs to get to the main floor. They’re barely out the door when flames engulf the front entryway, and the three of them collapse in relief. Derek gently sets the man on the ground, ready to assess his condition. He has a large, gaping wound on his forehead. It looks like it’s stopped bleeding too badly, but he has bruises crowning the rest of his head. 

Derek squints at the man. He looks familiar. Erica gasps. “Oh my god. Is that..._Red?”_ Derek wants to laugh at her. Red is their most powerful arch nemesis, a villain like the city of Beacon Hills has never seen before. He has killed, maimed, tortured, stolen, and vandalized Beacon Hills. The man lying unconscious before them couldn’t be Red...could he?

Derek looks closer, and immediately regrets it. Red has a few distinctive marks only visible to those who have fought in close combat with him, like Derek has. Red has a red-purple, circular mark behind his left ear and a long, thin slash that starts on the left side of his cheekbone and drags all the way down to his chest (there’s been a lot of clothes-ruining, almost to-the-death fights, alright?). Derek sees these exact marks on the man in front of them. “Oh my god,” he says faintly. They’ve been trying to find, capture, and stop him for years. And here he is, on the grass, for them to imprison. 

“I was right! It is him!” Erica crows. The man’s eyes suddenly snap open, and they widen in surprise. He sits up and begins backing away hurriedly on his hands and butt, dragging himself away from them. 

“Who are you?” He asks, panic lacing his voice. He smells like terror. He whips his head around. “Where am I? Why do I smell smoke?” He looks down at his hands and clothes and lets out a hysterical laugh. “Oh my god. Oh my god. What is happening?” He looks back up at the three of them. “Who are you!?” 

Erica steps forward. “Red, you need to come with us.” 

His heart rate increases rapidly as she gets closer. “What is red? Oh my god, oh my god. Why? I don’t know you.” 

Derek’s brow creases in confusion. “You mean, you don’t recognize us?” 

“Should I!?” He screeches. His breathing rate is rapidly increasing.

“Red, we’ve met many times,” Boyd begins walking towards him.

“Stop!! Don’t come any closer!! I don’t...I don’t...who...? Who….” His eyes roll to the back of his head and he collapses in a heap. The three of them share a look.

“He seemed genuinely confused,” Erica says cautiously.

“He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know us,” Derek adds thoughtfully. “Maybe he was hit on the head harder than I thought.”

“Are you saying he has amnesia?” Erica asks. 

Derek shrugs. “All I’m saying is that he was genuinely terrified. I’ve never smelled that on Red before.”

“He could be faking,” Boyd says. 

Derek only shrugs again. He isn’t the one to ask about that. But he knows who is. “Let’s get back to Laura. She’ll know what to do.”

Derek has always loved watching Laura work. She’s magnificent, and he’s looked up to her since birth. Right now, she’s slowly waving her open palms over Red’s head, eyes closed and brow furrowed. A deep purple glow is emanating from her efforts, and it fills the room with an overwhelming feeling of comfort. The glow recedes, and she opens her eyes. Their purple glow is fading more every second. “His hippocampus is badly bruised, but I can feel his head trying to heal itself.”

“What does that mean?” Erica asks. 

“It means he wasn’t being deceptive. Red has retrograde amnesia. It’s most likely temporary, but could be permanent. 

Derek feels stunned. “Does that mean that he might not ever remember who he is?” 

Laura shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to be patient.”

They all stare at each other, absorbing this information. The most dangerous villain in all of Beacon Hills’ history doesn’t remember that he’s the most dangerous villain in all of Beacon Hills’ history. “So...now what?” Erica asks. 

Laura places her hand on Red’s forehead, over the wound that she insisted on cleaning, stitching, and wrapping. “I’ll keep him here for now. We can start researching him, try and find out who knows him and who we can return him to.”

Derek shares a look with Boyd and Erica. “We’ll need to bother Cora.”

His friends groan in unison.

“I need you to know that I am extremely annoyed that you’re pulling me away from work that’s actually important.” Cora doesn’t even take her eyes off of the screen, just immediately begins searching.

“This _is_ important. It’s going to give us the identity of Red,” Erica complains.

“Whatever,” Cora says. “I already have some information about him compiled in my database, but I need you to give me more. What have you got?” 

“Uh, he looks about twenty?” Erica says. 

Derek can practically hear Cora’s responding eye roll. “How about something helpful, like where you found him?” 

Derek sometimes forgets that his genius sister doesn’t even need superpowers to show all of them up. 

“We were responding to an out-of-control fire at a chemical plant,” Boyd says.

“What kind of chemical plant?” She asks. She’s met with silence, and she groans. “Nevermind. Pulling up fires from today…cross-referencing superheroes in the news...it was a polymer synthesis chemical plant. Nice save today, though. Some of the stuff they were working with was highly flammable, first responders were expecting casualties.”

“I hate it when you hack into their response network,” Boyd grumbles. 

“Wouldn’t have to if you were actually helpful,” Cora retorts. Her screens are flashing with hundreds of faces. Derek suspects that they’re employees. “I have it narrowed down. Look at these faces, do you recognize any of them?”

All the pictures look like they’re from employee badges. They have mostly unsmiling faces in front of a blue background. “There,” Derek points. It’s Red, but a younger-looking one. He has a large grin stretched across his face, and his head is shaved much closer than it is right now. His eyes are bright and amber, nothing like the crimson red they adopt during battle, and his face is speckled with moles instead of soot and burn marks. 

Cora pulls up his employee information. “Alias Stiles Stilinski. Twenty-five. Been with the company since he was twenty, straight out of graduation.”

“He graduated college at twenty?” Erica asks.

Cora continues as if she hadn’t said anything. “Has no next of kin, his mother died fifteen years ago and his father died three years ago. No living family remains, or at least none on record. His last known address is...a P.O. box?” She pauses, then attacks the keyboard with a renowned gusto. “3227 East Hostler Lane, Apartment 3B,” she says. “He sold the house his father owned and bought that apartment with the money.” 

“So...he doesn’t have anyone at all?” Erica asks softly.

“Phone records indicate...he only calls two numbers. Or at least he has for the past two years. One belongs to the company he works for, and the other belongs to a Mr. Scott McCall.” She types some more, keys clicking. “Also dead. The number isn't disconnected though, it looks like Red has been paying the phone bills. Or at least, Stiles Stilinski has.” She stops typing and rolls slightly away from her desktops. “So yes, he doesn’t have anyone.” 

Derek feels a gut-wrenching stab of sympathy for the man. He can’t imagine what his life would be like if he didn’t have his parents, or Laura and Cora, or Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. It probably wouldn’t be worth living anymore. He might have turned bad, too. Then he shakes his head. He can’t be feeling sympathy for this murderer. That’s how they get you to their side.

“Who’s Scott McCall?” Boyd asks. 

Cora clicks a few times. “Former veterinarian in Beacon Hills. Was killed in a hit and run a few years ago. It seems that him and Stiles went to the same high school. Probably friends.”

A picture from their yearbook (where does Cora _get_ this stuff?) pops up on the screen. “Best friends,” Derek says softly, gazing at the picture of an even younger and more sheared Stiles Stilinski with his arm slung over the shoulder of a darker-skinned, floppy-haired, crooked-jawed teen. They’re both smiling impossibly wide and holding up peace signs. The caption on the picture is, “Most Likely to Grow Old Together,” and there’s a large font at the top of the page that reads, “BESTIES.” 

“Oh, Stiles,” Erica whispers, and Derek doesn’t even think she knows that she said it out loud. 

Laura pokes her head in. “He’s waking up. Though you guys might want to know.” They all turn and follow, mumbling their thanks to Cora on the way out.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Cora replies, returning to whatever ‘important work’ she was doing beforehand. 

Derek feels both creepy and curious as they watch Red -- Stiles -- wake up. It’s slow this time, as if he doesn’t feel the immediate danger anymore, and he rubs his eyes viciously. “Oh man, my head,” he groans, sitting up in the bed. He opens his eyes. “Whoa!” He says, startled. “You guys don’t look like doctors.” He looks down. “And this definitely isn’t a hospital.” He squints back up at them. “Who are you?” 

They had all taken their disguises off long before this moment, and Derek knows that they look a lot different when they’re just Derek, Boyd, and Erica. “I’m Laura,” Laura says. “I’m the doctor looking after you. Since you don’t have a next of kin to take care of you, you were assigned to us after the accident. We’ll be your temporary care facility until you’re well.” 

“The accident?” He looks confused. “What accident?” 

“There was a fire,” Laura explains. “At the place where you work. Do you remember where that is?” 

Red screws his face up, as if trying to think as hard as he can. He winces. “No. And trying to remember hurts.” He suddenly blinks hard, as if a realization just hit him. “I don’t remember my name.”

“That’s okay,” Erica jumps in. “We have that. Your name is Stiles Stilinski.”

He screws up his face again, this time in distaste. “Stiles Stilinski? Who the hell lets themselves be named that? Please tell me I have a nickname.” 

Laura chuckles. “That is your nickname. According to your driver’s license, this is your real name,” she hands him a license, which she must have gotten from search teams at the scene, or maybe from his car. 

Stiles glares at the tiny lettering and whistles. “Okay, yeah. I can see why I go by Stiles Stilinski now.” He looks back up at them. “So how did you all get so lucky to get stuck with the amnesiac whose parents hate him?” He pauses, and Derek swears that he can hear Stiles thinking. “Or, wait. If I don’t have a next of kin...I guess it should be past tense. Whose parents hated him.” He looks a little stunned. “Huh. I never knew you could miss someone you don’t even remember.”

He looks so lost that Derek just has to say something. “We’re part of a program. You get to stay in our guest bedroom until you’re good as new.” he says. Stiles, as smart as he is, looks suspicious, but apparently has little to no self-preservation instincts and just nods. 

To his credit, Stiles Stilinski manages a smile. “Well, I really appreciate it. And I’ll do anything I can to pay you all back in the future.”

Boyd huffs, “We’re sure you will,” and Erica elbows him hard. Derek has a feeling she’s starting to feel for the man in front of them -- the one that’s named Stiles, not Red.

When Stiles turns his head to look at Derek again, though, it’s hard to see his eyes and not imagine them creased with hatred. And yet, it’s almost painful to see them so lost and confused. Red was powerful. Stiles is...pitiful. And while he seems so harmless now, Derek has no doubt that the second he remembers all of his past, he’ll turn on them. And they have to be prepared for when he does.

Stiles is nothing like Derek expected, and that is to say that Stiles is nothing like Red. Stiles is curious, and funny, and uncoordinated. Everything Red is not. He touches Derek’s hair with a look of wonder on his face, claiming it feels like a duckling’s feathers. He beams at Cora when she makes veiled threats to kill everyone if they bother her too much. He helps Erica explode the microwave in a marshmallow fluff incident (“I was sure we got all the tin foil off!). He coos at pictures of Isaac and laments with the rest of them about him not returning to America for another six months. 

Stiles loves movies and candy and puppies. He has an unbridled curiosity about everything he sees, he cries at baby animal videos, and when he and Cora meet for the first time, Derek is sure that the entire universe stops spinning. 

The thing that surprises him the most, though, is that Stiles is kind. He goes out of his way to ask Boyd how he’s doing when he thinks he’s being too quiet. He helps Laura with some of her patients when they stop by, welcoming them in and talking with them as if he’s actually interested in their lives and recovery. He holds Derek’s hand when they get to the part in Big Hero 6 where Tadashi is killed in the fire, because it reminds him a lot of his own family’s demise. 

Stiles is _good._ And it makes him wonder what happened to cause Red to be born.

“Sunny side up for Erica, scrambled with cheddar for Boyd, and over-easy for the Hale siblings,” Stiles says cheerily as they enter the kitchen, sliding plates full of eggs, bacon, and toast towards each of them. It’s his way of saying good morning to them, and it’s already become very familiar.

It’s been two weeks and Stiles says that he still doesn’t remember. There are moments when he does things that don’t make sense in the context of what’s happening. He once made overhard eggs on an extra plate, even though no one in the house eats them. Derek will never forget the look on his face as he struggled to remember who the eggs were for, and why he had made them without a second thought.

He sometimes berates them for eating red meat, stating that white is better for their health. He brings home fish and spinach in an attempt to fix their diets and once even ran across the room to remove a bowl of ramen noodles from Cora’s hands, only to finish them off himself. He has no explanation for his extreme regard for others’ health and none for his own, and he always looks just as confused as them.

He once called Boyd “Scottie,” which made Erica’s face crumple as she excused herself from the room. He’s called Erica by the name of Lydia a few times, and has done the same to Laura. When Boyd, Erica, and Derek go to Cora for more information, she pulls up an article with a grim face. 

“Youngest Mathematician to win the Euler Book Prize dead at 20,” the article reads. Apparently Lydia Martin, who had discovered a whole new math-related theory in her first semester of undergrad and then written a book about it, had been killed in a drunk driving crash. The driver of the other car had cleared a .33. She had been killed instantly. One of the brightest minds of their time, gone forever. She had gone to school with Scott and Stiles, and Cora was even able to pull up a picture that had all three of them in it, along with a few other friends. 

“Who are the other people in the picture?” Derek asks, trying to move their thoughts away from the late Lydia Martin. 

Cora’s fingers fly. “According to the caption, Kira Yukimura, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, and Jackson Whittemore.”

She pulls up Jackson. “Whittemore moved to Europe after Lydia’s death, completely off the map. Last time he was documented was...working in a coffeeshop in Paris. Yeesh.” She pulls up another. “Allison Argent was killed in a hunting accident their junior year of high school,” Cora winces, clicking through some obituaries. “Malia Tate is spending time in Eichen House, but she’s been in Beacon Hills since birth. Apparently she had some sort of mental breakdown. Can’t seem to recover. And Kira Yukimura...was reported missing during their senior year of high school. Hasn’t been seen or heard of since.”

Erica looks at them all, eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. “How can one person withstand so much loss?”

Derek thinks back to all the times they’ve faced off with Red. It’s been a few months since their last showdown, but he remembers every second. Every hatred-filled scream, every anguished burst of light. Red himself was haunting. His soul-searing anger burned into his red eyes; his sharp, electric energy cutting you to the core; his biting magic that leaves a taste of regret in your mouth after he hits you with a burst of it. 

“They can’t,” Derek whispers.

Stiles remembers. He remembers everything. Every single fight with the heroes, every death and tragedy and disappearance, every person he’s ever felt the life drain out of. He remembers them all. And when he does, he knows that should be it. He should run away from the Hale house and never return. But...he can’t. He literally cannot bring himself to leave. He tries to rationalize it: he’s just gathering more information about his enemies. He’ll be able to use these weaknesses against them.

But in the back of his mind, he knows the truth. He can’t imagine another morning without Derek’s bedhead. He can’t bear the thought of watching a Disney movie without Erica there to cry with him over it. He can’t ever play Call of Duty without seeing Cora’s pleased little grin that overcomes her face whenever she gets a perfect kill. He can’t go on without Laura’s comforting hugs, or Boyd’s sassy remarks, or Derek’s kind smile. 

They all remind him of what he’s lost, but they also remind him what he’s fighting for. And he can’t bring himself to sneak off into the middle of the night like he should, and to go back to the life he was living before. He’s not “reformed” or anything. If anything, his purpose is stronger than ever. But Stiles challenges even the most stalwart of people to listen to Derek as he talks about the citizens of Beacon Hills and not fall in love with how much he loves humanity. He’s just so _good._ And unlike all the times before, instead of making Stiles feel sick, it makes him feel...warm. 

And he realizes that he never wants to leave this place.

“Stiles! How are you today?” Laura asks, dragging her hand over his head. His hair has grown back nicely. After the fire, they had to cut off the singed edges and it had looked odd for a few days. 

“Laura,” he complains, grinning as he pushes her hands away. 

She’s undeterred, grabbing his face and pulling his head down towards her. “Your cut’s looking good,” she turns his face slowly so she can look at it closer. “You might have a scar, but it won’t be very visible.”

“Aw man,” Stiles jokes, pulling away, “I kind of wanted a cool scar.”

Laura chuckles. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. How are your legs?” 

Stiles had sustained first and second degree burns on his legs, so Laura has been keeping a close eye on his progress. “I’ve been moisturizing, and they feel good,” Stiles shrugged, waving his bandaged legs around for her to see. 

She beams. “Good.” She gets a soft look in her eyes, and she pulls him close to her again, wrapping him in her arms. “I’m glad you’re here, Stiles,” she says. 

Stiles stands there for a moment, eyes turning glassy and throat closing up, before he hugs her back. “Me too,” he says softly. 

Derek walks in on them about five minutes later. “Group hug!?” He says excitedly, then launches himself at the two of them. They open their arms to let him in, and Stiles finds himself the willing participant to a Hale sandwich, something he had never imagined he would feel before.

“PDA? Really?” Erica snorts when she walks in, and the group hug disbands slowly, each of the participants finding a place in the living room to settle into. 

Derek is pouting. “We can hug if we want to,” he says petulantly. 

“Wanting to isn’t the problem here,” Boyd says critically, rolling his eyes. Stiles decides not to read into it, and instead enjoys the way Derek’s ears burn bright red at Boyd’s comment. 

“Guys!” Cora screams from the other room, and they all startle, sharing a look before flooding into the room. Cora doesn’t scream for nothing. She’s standing in front of her screens, pointing to the one on the far left. It’s the outdoor camera, and standing on their front lawn is ARG3NT, the large human-controlled robot that’s been terrorizing Beacon Hills lately in its effort to “cleanse” it from the impure. Stiles has heard the rest of them talking about the robot in hushed tones. Technically, he’s not supposed to know that they’re all heroes. “I’ve reinforced the doors, but we don’t know how strong the robot is.”

Laura’s face is grim as they all turn to her. “Suit up,” she says. “If it’s looking for a fight, we’re sure as hell gonna give it one.”

They all turn to get into their gear when a loud cracking noise fills the air. It takes them all a second to realize that the large robot is literally ripping off the front of their house. Derek turns to Stiles, panic is his eyes. “Stiles, run! Go out the back door, and run as far as you can! Don’t get help, just run.”

Stiles stares at Derek for a moment, mouth agape. Heroes are so odd. They spend their entire lives fighting for the greater good, sacrificing normal lives and happiness for people they don’t even know, and they usually meet horrible ends despite that. They win just to lose, over and over again. And yet...yet they still do it. They still show up for every fight, every win, every loss. And looking into Derek’s eyes, seeing the fierceness behind the fear, Stiles thinks he finally might understand why.

He sets his jaw and steps forward. “Get back,” he says.

“Stiles, no! Run!” Erica says. 

“Erica….” Cora says quietly, the only one who realizes what’s going on.

Stiles takes a few more steps forward, and he lets his eyes bleed red. Suddenly, he feels everything. He feels Derek’s body heat, even though the man is many feet behind him. He feels Boyd’s heartbeat, steady despite the impending threat. He feels Laura’s blood rush from her face, and Cora’s boots shifting nervously, and Erica’s hair follicles move as she does. God, he missed being powerful.

Stiles stalks towards the robot, who is peeking into the hole he just ripped in the beautiful Hale house. “Hey fuckface! How ‘bout you watch who’s in the house before you attack it!” Stiles screams, and he slowly raises his arms above his head, feeling his red lightning crackling in his bones, rushing up his arms and concentrating into his fingertips. He throws his arms down, right at the robot, and the whole being shudders. It roars, then somehow manages to look pissed despite being a hunk of ugly metal.

It begins advancing towards them again, metal clanking and gears shifting, and Stiles snaps his fingers. Immediately, red smoke begins bubbling up from under his feet, and he feels his eyes burn. He’s about to have _so much fun._

All Derek and his family can do is stand and watch Stiles (Red?), mouths agape and feet frozen. They had all figured that when Stiles didn’t say anything about his memory, he still didn’t have it. But based on the way he stepped out in front of the robot, Stiles is very aware of who he is and what he’s capable of. Which begs the question of why he didn’t tell them or try to escape. But that’s a question for later. Right now, the only question on Derek’s mind is “What now?” And maybe, “What the fuck!?” 

Derek watches a glowing red take over Stiles’s gorgeous honey eyes, and he feels the anguish in the air as Stiles calls upon his lightning to throw at the robot. Derek can taste the crackle of electricity, fresh and biting, and stares openly as the large robot does a while body shudder before advancing on them with a new gusto. 

Stiles looks unbothered, though, and Derek watches in awe as red smoke rises from his feet, as if it’s coming up from the depths of the underworld to do Stiles’s bidding. He’s seen that smoke choke people to death, seen it curl like a snake into their mouths and noses and tighten around their lungs. He knows what Stiles has done. Yet to Derek, Stiles has never looked as beautiful as he does now, eyes red and furious, jaw clenched, stance widened, voice fierce, and power radiating from his soul. He’s determined. Confident that he will win, because his cause is so great and ambition so strong that losing is not even a blip on his radar. 

Stiles has nothing but energy radiating around him, and it’s no surprise to Derek when he blasts it at the robot with nothing more than a flick of his fingers. The robot is flung backwards, fight over before it even started, and Stiles marches over to the downed hunk of metal, prodding it with his hands to make sure it’s actually down. When he looks back at them all, still standing in the house and shell-shocked that it’s over already, his eyes are immediately drawn to the house, and Stiles’s face crumples in regret.

“Your house,” he says, small and sad and so _Stiles_ that Derek forgets for a moment that he and Red are one and the same.

“Stiles!” Derek says, rushing towards him. “Are you okay?” He asks as he stands in front of the other man, looking him over for injuries.

Stiles looks startled. “Derek, I’m fine. But your house…” he looks back at the ruined wall. 

“We can rebuild a house,” Derek says firmly. 

Stiles looks back at him, seemingly at a loss for words. “I...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Stiles looks away. “For not telling you that I remembered. I understand that...that we’re enemies, and if you want to put me away. I get it, is what I’m saying.”

Derek looks at him, really looks at him. The man that’s standing in front of him is Stiles, his Stiles. Stiles that makes them breakfast every morning. Stiles that cries for cute animal videos. Stiles that looks at him so tenderly. Stiles, whom he might just love a little. Derek opens his arms and wraps them around the other man, who stands stiff as a board for a moment before returning the hug.

“That was so brave,” Erica says, running up to join them. Boyd’s arms wrap around them a few seconds later, then Laura’s, then Cora’s. 

“I can’t believe you just did that for us,” Laura says. “How long have you had your memory back?”

“A few weeks,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s chest. “But by that time...I loved you all. I couldn’t leave. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Derek murmurs. “You just saved us.”

They all stand there for a moment, breathing as one unit.

“Well shit. Now what?” Cora asks. 

Derek looks down at Stiles and shrugs. It’ll be fine, he figures. They have time to figure it out. 

Point for the good guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know it went fast, and it was kind of supposed to -- just a fun little drabbling fic.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed it or hated it, I respond to all comments!! Much love xx


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